“MINE,” my male hopped on the booth seat and leaned in to bellow right into Cliff’s stunned face. He wasn’t choking him, but holding him. He was pissed, and despite it being gentle, all things considered, I knew just what an angry Marsh was capable of.
“Greniv, Cliff, my brother. Cliff, this is Greniv, my mate, the one I told you about, the male I knew the moment I laid eyes on him he was the one,” I introduced them, as if Gren didn’t have my brother by the throat.
Frowning but holding his hand out when I nodded encouragingly, Cliff croaked out hoarsely, “Cliff, nice to meet you, uh, Greniv. Heard a lot about you. When you’re done hugging my throat, we can shake hands, like real men.”
Gren’s snarl cut short and he blinked, scowled, then grunted. “Did you say brother?” It was then I noticed just how sparkling his eyelids looked, and kind of off-white pinkish. Was he wearing poorly drawn on lipstick? Had the pups given him a makeover today? My heart got all melty at the idea of him doing that with a little girl of our own, should we be blessed with any.
“C-Dog, at your service.” Giving up on shaking hands, Cliff lifted his thick fingers in a little wave.
Gren’s hold eased and he turned and slid down into the booth seat. Our eyes met and I grinned. It was more than the silly makeover disaster on his face.
“I- Did you say-” Gren murmured, grinning stupidly when I nodded. “She says I’m the one,” he told Cliff, like he wasn't sitting right there. “I’m her one.”
“I take it you didn't know…?” His gaze darted between us like,you’re mates, duh, can you believe this guy?“That’s great.” Cliff had a funny look on his face, eyeing Gren. “A pickle of a realization. Good for you.”
“Are you hungry?” My hands slid across the table, taking my male’s hands in mine. “Would you like me to order you something?”
“I got it,” he said with the sweetest smile. Turning, offering me his right cheek, he called for the waitress.
My eyes bugged and my mouth slowly dropped open. That was about the time Cliff lost it, just completely lost it, laughing his fool head off. “Why is there a giant green pickle dick on your face? Who on earth have you been playing makeup with and whose ass do I need to stomp inward?” I blurted.
Gren blinked, frowning. “A what on my what?”
“Green… pickle… dick… face...” Cliff’s face was red, tears streaming down his craggy cheeks. I had to slap his phone out of his hand twice so he couldn’t snap pictures.
“It’s not that funny,” I growled out at big brother dear.
Chapter 21
Gren
This wasn’t a shining moment for me, I’d admit, but Aster was fussing over me, trying to stuff me full of onion rings and a thick roast beef sandwich the size of my head while I swiped the crap on my face off with wet wipes she’d dug out of her purse.
Playing footsie with her under the table, I probably looked like a big, goofy bastard smiling over at her whenever she looked my way but I didn't care. She’d flat out claimed my ass in the middle of a restaurant. My sweet flower was mine, all mine.
“I’m glad you worked through your stupid bullshit and grew some balls,” Cliff, Aster’s big brother, muttered, quite loudly, studying me.
He was a wolf and an Elemental—fire magicks—another Death Bringer. His head cocked in that doggy-like manner Werewolves had about them.
Aster’s cheeks pinkened but she didn’t negate her brother’s remark. Good. I didn’t want her to.
“Me, too,” I replied easily, meeting his steady gaze as I lifted my glass of ice tea and took a long drink. “Aster is wonderful. I’d have spent the rest of my life trying to win her back if she’d turned me down. I’m lucky she’s as sweet as the blushes on her face.” Setting my drink down, turning to my female, I gave her a grateful look. Her hair shifted as she spluttered, blushing prettily until her cheeks looked like they burned.
Leaning in, I meant to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek, but she grabbed my face and planted one on me. It was bold, deep, and had my stomach in knots as my toes curled. Holy shit, she was the one for me.
When she pulled back, her eyes were glassy, lips plump from our kiss, that sweet pinkening of her cheeks endearing me to her all the more by the second. Her hair had shifted, a pretty cotton candy pink.
Her hand lifted, brushing a lock of my hair out of my face, and she let out a soft giggle.
“What?” I asked with a slightly confused half smile.
“Your hair.” Her smile was blindingly bright.
“What’s wrong with my hair?” Gods, what had those assholes done to my hair?!
“It’s purple,” Cliff murmured, lifted a hand to flick a thick finger at the top of my mop.
“Oh, the streak. It changed colors again?”
